


i'd give my life for you

by thatiranianphantom (FrraFee)



Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago PD
Genre: Because I'm lazy as fuck, F/M, I'm finally posting these on AO3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8149171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrraFee/pseuds/thatiranianphantom
Summary: No one can stop what I must do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, this has literally been posted on ff.net since last year, but I'm lazy as hell and I'm just uploading now. If you haven't read it, I hope you enjoy!!

hindsight, it should probably be no surprise that it takes her so long to tell him.

What seemed so all consuming before, doesn't really when you take into account the dead prostitute on the floor and Matt being missing.

And then Voight, in a stunning display of poor timing, calls them to help because Lindsay is off the rails.

Matt first, she insists.

After all, they know Lindsay is alive.

* * *

 

 

They find him forty-six agonizing hours later, when Gabby has only one fingernail left (a nervous habit she never really managed to break).

He's chained in some dank basement, his face splattered with blood, clothes ripped, dirty and unconscious, but _alive_.

It takes a full four more days to find Nesbitt, and god only knows what happens to him after that, but with Boden and Voight on it, Gabby's pretty sure he'd be better off dead.

And Matt….he flinched when the door opened, he cowered from unknown people, and he looked at her and everyone else in 51 with this complete emptiness that scared her more than some stupid plus sign on a plastic stick ever could.

She's sitting by his hospital bed, stroking his hand, when she remembers that night.

 _This is,_ she remembers herself stuttering, _this is just a reaction to the stress of the day._

He didn't buy it, she knows.

_That's the problem, I do know you._

She had said that, she recalls, but he always knew her better.

 

* * *

 

She wasn't lying before. It _was_ a great night. But that was all it was ever supposed to be, because she exists in a state of perpetual confusion where Matt is concerned. She can't see him with anyone else, certainly can't see herself with anyone else, and yet they remain apart. Mostly, even, by her own doing.

And now that stupid plus sign.

She is so _angry_ with herself; she doesn't know what to do.

Out of any guy she could have fallen into bed with for the purposes of "stress relief", it had to be her ex-fiancé.

It could never be just for one night now, because they had made a baby, that one night.

And Matt…she knows him well. He'd be thrilled. He wanted to be a father, had for years.

And he'd care for this baby, adore this baby, and maybe, eventually, so would she. But that seems so far off to Gabby right now. This is point A, and that shiny-happy-family-in-bed-on-Sunday-reading-the-paper is point B.

How to get from one to the other, Gabby has no idea.

(Later, she will say it is a series of ten transformative doorways. A series of rooms, so to speak, and she learned something different in each one.)

* * *

 

_Doorway Number One_

Soon after Matt is found, so is Lindsay.

She turned up in some crack den, a bit worse for wear, unconscious, but alive as well.

She is placed in the room next to Matt's. Her partner paces the room for hours, refuses to leave. His eyes shining, he occasionally goes and picks up Lindsay's limp hand, then seems to think better of it.

She remembers Erin asking her about in-house relationships, what feels like a lifetime ago.

"The things that bring you together are the same things that tear you apart," she had said.

And what would this do?

She didn't want Casey to stick around only for the baby.

She wouldn't, _couldn't_ see the look in his eyes when he looked at her. Pity, shame, guilt.

No.

No, they would not be together just because of the baby.

_Do not tempt my will_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Two_

Matt is discharged a week later, and Gabby guides him home (no, she still hasn't told him).

She supposes she planned to stay to settle him in, and then just….never got around to leaving.

Moreover, she can't bear the thought of Matt waking up to one of his frequent nightmares, alone.

She promises, _swears_ to him that they will say no, every time, if and when Voight asks them to help him again.

"We're not cops, Gabby. We're just…not. We're firefighters." He pauses.

"I wish…I wish I'd never said yes."

She pulls him in close and lays him down on the bed. He is still stiff in her arms, still on guard, but he doesn't pull away.

The next week, Matt has the worst panic attack she has ever seen him have. She tries every usual technique she has developed over the last little while, but nothing works.

He has been pacing for three hours, scratching his head until it bleeds, wild, blind terror in his eyes.

He cowers away from her. He literally shies away in fear.

And that's when she realizes.

She is not enough to pull him through this. She had hoped, but….she is not.

Yet, it occurs to her, she knows what may.

She sits down on the couch, a safe distance away. She calls his name softly until he sort of glances in her direction.

"Do you remember that night, Matt? The one I told you didn't mean anything?"

She takes the jerk of his head as a nod, and then carefully approaches him, reaching for his hand. It takes several moments before he finally allows her to take it, so she wastes no time placing it on her abdomen.

The dawn of realization takes less than a minute, she thinks, but feels like an eternity.

"You're…we're.." he stutters out.

"Eight weeks, about."

He brings both of his hands to cover her abdomen, and the first ghost of a smile she's seen in weeks lifts his lips.

They turn a corner after that.

Of course, Matt still had panic attacks. The damage Nesbitt did was not so easily undone, and it would be foolish to think it would be.

She still couldn't take him to large, crowded places; it was still too much for him. He was still triggered by little things; she still caught him curled into the fetal position.

But unlike before, he smiled.

The first full smile came after the first ultrasound. There was a shine in his eyes Gabby had never seen before. He glowed with pride, and happiness. She doesn't remember seeing that even _before_ Nesbitt.

When he had attacks now, he would blindly reach for Gabby, placing one hand on her abdomen, and she could physically feel him relax.

He started going to a therapist, and she of all people knew how hard that was for him to do.

The baby kicked under his hand once, and he lit up like a Christmas tree and had no attacks for three days.

He is thrilled, and, oddly enough, that is when it hits her.

_He's what I live for_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Three_

She's going to be a mom. In the short space of a few months, Gabby will be responsible for a tiny human life, a life that she will have to bring into this world, care for, protect, and teach.

Kind of makes rushing into burning buildings look pretty tame in comparison.

Her body slowly ceases to be her own. Everything she eats, everything she drinks, everything she does, she does to help this tiny life growing inside of her.

She's going to be a mom.

It sounds unreal, like someone else's life.

But it's her, and it's Matt, and it's forever.

And if she _is_ going to be a mom, then it starts now. She protects this little life that she and Matt made with everything in her.

_And be scared of the life that's inside her_

_Growing stronger each day, till it finally reminds her_

_To fight just a little, to bring back the fire in her eyes_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Four_

So she transfers. Being on squad or truck is too risky, and she's sure Boden would never allow it.

So she switches to Arson. She'd worked one Arson investigation and found it to be okay. Not as exciting as firefighting, of course. But bearable.

It's not even the biggest adjustment. That comes with being away from her squad, her family. They make a point to make sure she's not forgotten though. She has at least three truck or squad members visit her every day. Donna even visits with Terrence.

She suspects Boden has asked, but she is still grateful for the company. Donna is so deft in her movements around her son. She seems to know what the boy needs before he makes a sound. She wonders if she can ever be like that for her own child.

One time, Donna tells Gabby she has to go to the bathroom, and abruptly presses a sleeping Terrence into her arms.

Gabby runs a finger down the soft cheek of the sleeping infant, and despite herself, a smile breaks out. He was so innocent, so untainted, so completely trusting that his mother would take care of him.

Recently, she had heard news of Erin Lindsay and her downward cycle. She had gone to visit her friend at one point, weeding her way through a seedy bar until she found Erin sitting at a grimy table, pounding a vodka.

Lindsay was completely out of it, Gabby knows, because she offered her a vodka, and Gabby is sure that she's told Erin about the baby.

She invites her to come to Molly's after that, promising her all the free drinks she wants, if she could just get her where someone could keep an eye on her.

Begrudgingly, Lindsay agrees. Gabby doesn't invite Halstead until the fifth night, and insists he stay in the back, but his eyes never leave Lindsay.

_No, you're not dangerous. Who could think that of you?_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Five_

For several blissful months, Gabby finally allows herself to believe everything _could_ work out.

That is, until the 22 week ultrasound.

Everything had been startlingly normal thus far. Small bits of bleeding, which, according to the doctor, was to be expected.

Placenta previa, perhaps not so expected.

Of all the scenarios she has imagined for the future, complications in pregnancy didn't even enter into it.

Should've, though. She's a _paramedic_. She knows what that means. C-sections, hemorrhaging, potentially fatal for mother and baby.

Gabby grips Matt's hand and doesn't even think about how this may be triggering him.

"Complete placenta previa," the doctor tells her. She is slightly comforted in the fact that it will likely resolve itself, but they will keep a close eye on her for the next half of her pregnancy.

The doctor explains that her placenta had attached down where the baby was supposed to make their exit.

If it didn't resolve itself, she'd need a C-section, and would need to be monitored carefully for bleeding.

As a paramedic, she knows she is at risk for hemorrhage, but she doesn't tell Matt.

She and this baby are what he is holding onto.

_Am I here to damn you, or to help you navigate this maze?_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Six_

He dotes on her the rest of her pregnancy.

She never moves back to her place, officially, but one day, Matt presents her with a drawer with a clumsily tied bow around it, cheeks burning.

She accepts it and, acting on what she'd guess is impulse, but maybe it was a move many months in the making, presses her lips to his.

He reciprocates with palpable relief.

For the next few months, she and Matt are back, and it's good. It is as good as it can be, with a few intense panic attacks and it feels almost normal, almost right.

He visits her every day in the arson division, keeps a copy of each sonogram in his wallet, and will proudly brandish it to everyone who hasn't seen it two dozen times.

He falls asleep every night wrapped around her. She's not enough to save him, but she helps. The baby helps.

_Every story is a love story_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Seven_

This is _her_ baby.

Well, her and Matt's, of course, but somehow, along the road, this baby has become a part of Gabby. They are linked, in more ways than the obvious one.

She knows this baby better than almost anyone, already.

She wonders, sometimes, how it is possible that you would sacrifice everything you have for someone you have never actually conventionally met.

She mentions this to Hermann once, blushing furiously. He smirks and lays a hand on her belly.

"Ah, kid," he says. "They don't tell ya before you become a parent that you'll spend your whole life with your heart living outside your body."

_But I didn't know I'd love you so much_

* * *

 

_D_ _oorway Number Eight_

She has a C-section scheduled in four weeks. The previa has not corrected itself so medically; she knows that C-section is her only option.

She's not looking forward to the scar, admittedly, but she _is_ looking forward to her baby finally being here.

Matt decorated the nursery one day while she was at work. She came back to him with a giant smile on his face and a smear of paint on his cheek.

It's absolutely adorable, of course.

They still don't know if it's a boy or a girl. Truthfully, she'd be happy with either. The most important thing is the baby getting here, healthy.

She's made it through eight months of this, but somehow, four more weeks seems absurdly far away.

She's visiting 51 on an average Tuesday when it happens. She's laughing at some stupid joke Otis told, while laboriously getting up for a refill of lunch when she feels it.

It's not as if she's not used to the feeling. One of pregnancy's more pleasant side effects is an absolute lack of control over her own bladder.

(Matt tries admirably hard not to laugh at it).

Gabby has also been living in a state of constant mini-contractions for the past few weeks, but her paramedic training tells her this is normal, as her body gets ready to deliver.

So it's not as if this would be an altogether uncommon feeling, but this is different. She knows it even before her maternity pants soak with liquid and a contraction squeezes her.

"Gabby?" Otis questions, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I think my water just broke," she breathes.

Cruz helps her into a chair, and looks down.

And she sees the blood drain from his face.

Which is ironic, really, because he puts a hand to her thigh and it comes back soaked in exactly that.

_Tell her I love her, and I'll see her when I wake_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number Nine:_

What happens next is fuzzy at best. Cruz and Otis lay her down on a spare bed, yell for Brett and Matt.

Matt comes first, and sees it right away.

She seizes his hand and pulls her up towards her. His hand passes through her hair as Brett comes flying in.

" _Shit_ ," the young woman swears. "She's hemorrhaging. We need to get her to Lakeshore right now. Matt, she has full placenta previa, right? Right? Matt!"

Gabby is lost on a sea of pain.

Pain radiates from every pore of her being, every cell, every atom. She feels more and more blood come out, feels the contractions getting stronger, and most alarmingly, feels her baby start to make its way out.

Or it would be the most alarming, if at that moment, Gabby hadn't seen…. that look in Matt's eyes. If she hadn't felt his hand freeze in hers.

If at that very moment, the world hadn't gone black.

_She's losing too much…_

_Matt! Matt, you gotta stay with us now. Gabby needs you now, your baby needs you._

_We're losing her…._

_Baby can't take this…_

_Coming now…_

_Matt!_

_she needs you_

his hand tightens in hers

_I'm here_

_That's all I need to know_

* * *

 

_Doorway Number 10_

She is a mother.

She has a daughter.

Her tiny feet kick in the isolette, as if she is protesting this enclosure.

Gabby smiles.

She has spunk.

They can't see her now. They can't, but she can see him, see their little girl, their darling Martina, and she knows everything will turn out fine.

It's an odd feeling, to be sure.

But maybe, just maybe, Point B is right here.

_You will be who you want to be_

_You can choose whatever heaven grants_

_As long as you can have your chance_

_I know I'd give my life for you_


End file.
